Chapter 199: Letter

Chapter 199: Letter

After thinking of the possibility that the owner of the demon dog was behind it, Klein immediately changed his strategy. He described in great detail the process through which he and Isengard Stanton had come to know each other because of the serial murder case.

In addition, he proactively mentioned that Isengard Stanton had organized a group of detectives to investigate the serial murder case and had successfully obtained part of the bounty.

“In that commission, although I merely offered some ideas—mm, to use professional terminology from the private detective industry, provided consultative opinions—Mr. Stanton still believed that I had contributed the most, so I received the largest share of the reward,” Klein concluded.

The two police officers responsible for the interrogation swiftly recorded these details and asked whether anyone could verify them. Klein gave the names and addresses of private detectives such as Stuart and Kaslana.

“Very good, Mr. Moriarty. Your answers are sufficiently detailed.” One officer stopped his pen and changed the question. “How long did you stay inside Isengard Stanton’s home today? I mean from the moment you entered until we found you.”

Klein thought briefly. Without consulting Lawyer Jurgen’s opinion, he answered directly,

“About two or three minutes.”

That was his true personal impression.

The other officer raised his eyebrows.

“Multiple nearby residents can confirm that you entered Isengard Stanton’s home at around 2:10 in the afternoon, while we arrived at the scene at 2:28. In other words, you remained inside the house for roughly eighteen minutes, not two or three!

“During such a long time, what exactly were you doing? Why didn’t you leave? Why didn’t you call the police?”

Eighteen minutes passed? Klein suddenly frowned.

He felt that his silent stalemate with whoever had been watching him had lasted a little over a minute at most. How had a full eighteen minutes gone by?

Was that strange sensation of being watched disrupting my grasp of time, or was it caused by something else? Is this the other party’s Beyonder ability? If it really is the owner of the demon dog, he is at least Sequence 6, and most likely Sequence 5… As Klein sank into confused thought, Jurgen leaned forward, preparing to accuse the police of asking a leading question.

That was not a particularly solid reason. He merely wanted to use that method to interrupt the rhythm of the interrogation and delay the clearly unfavorable question.

Just then, Klein raised a hand and rubbed his temples.

“Everything I said just now was true. In my personal perception, I had only entered Detective Isengard Stanton’s house for two or three minutes.”

At this point, he emphasized, “Mm, in my personal perception.”

The two officers exchanged a glance, then wrote the point down.

After a brief silence, the officer who had asked the question said, “During those eighteen minutes, a servant who had gone out and returned rang the doorbell, but received no answer. He looked inside through the bow window and saw dismembered body parts all over the floor, as well as you standing at the sitting room door.

“He was terrified and ran to the police station like a madman to report the matter. Many passersby and some residents can confirm this.”

Klein ignored the signal in Lawyer Jurgen’s eyes and shook his head on his own.

“I did not hear the doorbell ring.”

The two officers exchanged another glance. They made no comment, simply recording it.

They then asked further questions regarding other details. Since Klein had done nothing and felt neither guilty nor ashamed, he answered everything truthfully.

Near the end, he could not help asking with concern, “Have you found Detective Isengard Stanton? I saw no corpse in the sitting room. He should still be alive, right…”

One officer tapped the table with his pen and said, “That is also something we find very puzzling. In the entire house, only the sitting room showed signs of a struggle. The windows were tightly shut and had not been opened in many days. You know that this is normal in Backlund during autumn and winter.

“Yet the attacker and Mr. Isengard Stanton strangely left that room. We have no idea where they went. We found no clues anywhere else in the house or in the surrounding area—not even any bloodstains.”

Without waiting for Klein to speak, he answered his own implied question.

“You’re certainly thinking about the sitting room door and the house’s front door, but many witnesses confirm that there was no chase nearby, and no one took a hostage or carried a corpse away.”

Perhaps the event actually happened around midnight? Perhaps they could pass through walls? Klein silently offered other possibilities in his mind and silently prayed:

May the Goddess bless Detective Isengard Stanton and let him escape disaster.

The Evernight Goddess was the Empress of Misfortune and Horror.

After the interrogation ended, Klein was cuffed inside a small room while the police department sent people to 15 Minsk Street with Lawyer Jurgen to retrieve the letters as evidence.

They kept fussing over the matter until evening. At last, Klein was allowed to post bail for fifty pounds.

“This is much more expensive than last time. An ordinary private detective would find it very hard to produce that much cash in a short period.” After leaving the Hissak Police Station, Klein drew together the collar of his wool coat and complained to Lawyer Jurgen.

Jurgen still wore his professional, serious expression.

“Last time, the situation was favorable to you. This time, many points of suspicion are directed at you.”

As he hailed a rental carriage, he turned his head solemnly and glanced at Klein.

“Sherlock, I am your lawyer. Before answering the police’s questions, you would do best to communicate with me, even if it is only with your eyes.

“Do not speak freely just because you think there is no issue. Ordinary people without training can very easily leave behind verbal weaknesses.”

This… I’m already used to making up stories by myself and solving problems by myself… Recalling what had happened, Klein laughed dryly twice.

“All right. I’ll pay attention.”

Jurgen said nothing more and boarded the carriage.

Klein sat opposite him and began thinking about the attack on Detective Isengard Stanton.

As he thought, he suddenly heard his stomach growl.

It’s already half an hour past normal dinnertime… Klein took out his gold pocket watch, flipped it open, and glanced at it.

He no longer intended to waste energy preparing food and began considering which restaurant might be worth looking forward to.

At that moment, Jurgen lifted his eyelids and said, “I already asked my grandmother to prepare dinner for three.”

“How could I possibly impose like that?” Klein froze for a moment, then immediately smiled. “Mrs. Doris’s cooking is always something to look forward to.”

…

By the time the two returned to Minsk Street in Cherwood Borough, the sky was already completely dark. The light from the gas street lamps was even brighter than the faintly visible crimson moon hanging in midair.

After freeloading a dinner at Lawyer Jurgen’s home and petting the cat, Klein walked through the cold, damp air back to the house at No. 15.

Habitually, he checked the mailbox and took out a newly delivered copy of the Backlund Evening News.

Holding the newspaper, Klein opened the door and entered. Just as he set down his cane, he suddenly felt that something was wrong.

His Seer’s spiritual intuition told him that a stranger had entered his home!

Was it the police who came earlier to collect evidence? Klein looked around warily and abruptly discovered a letter lying on the coffee table.

There should have been only newspapers there!

Always on guard against an attack, Klein entered the living room and approached the coffee table. Throughout the entire process, his surroundings remained silent, without the slightest abnormality.

After looking down and examining the letter for a few seconds, Klein first took out his black gloves and put them on. Only then did he pick it up and open it.

Inside the envelope was a thin sheet of paper. The moment he unfolded it, a dark-red color entered Klein’s eyes, and a faint smell of blood followed, lingering around his nose.

Upon the paper, congealed blood had written a line of words:

“All of you will die!”

This… Is it really the owner of the demon dog? Is he taking revenge on everyone connected to the death of his subordinate? Truly bullying the weak and fearing the strong. Why doesn’t he go directly after the Nighthawk powerhouse in charge of the elimination operation? Klein’s heart tightened as numerous thoughts flashed through his mind.

However, he quickly dismissed his own complaint. Beginning revenge with targets one could deal with was the most normal choice. It was just like how he had come to Backlund for several months without ever thinking of finding Ince Zangwill, instead relentlessly pursuing Lanevus.

After looking around once more, Klein gradually found the matter somewhat baffling.

“To take revenge in such a blatant way—doesn’t he fear official powerhouses lying in wait? Is this part of his potion’s acting requirements?

“Or, because Detective Isengard Stanton escaped, he knows he can no longer silently eliminate every target one by one and thus had to switch to a different method? But this method doesn’t seem meaningful either.

“Also, when I was at Detective Stanton’s house, he had clearly locked onto me and was watching me the entire time. Why didn’t he act? Could he really be wary of me, an ordinary private detective?

“No. That’s absolutely impossible… Does he know I’m a Beyonder? That’s possible. Because of the lost-and-found side effect of the Master Key, I ran into the demon dog directly. It saw my appearance and build. Although I had made a certain disguise at the time, I don’t know whether a Demon can see through that…

“Perhaps after that incident, it used some method to show its owner what happened…

“But back then, I couldn’t even defeat the demon dog and could only flee in a sorry state. What could he be wary of? Unless he was also wary of something else—for example, Isengard Stanton, who might be wounded and hiding nearby.

“Did he write to me in such a blatant fashion because he believes a wild Beyonder like me definitely won’t dare seek official help?”

With his mind full of questions, Klein began inspecting the house, eventually making his way to the second floor.

The moment he opened his bedroom door, another letter leapt into his eyes.

The letter lay quietly on the desk, as though it had been waiting for a long time.

Klein picked it up, opened it, and gently unfolded it. He saw a line of dark-red, blood-colored words:

“You are next.”

Next… How arrogant… Klein could not help sighing inwardly.

At that moment, he suddenly sensed something and raised his head, looking outside the window.

Opposite him were several two-story houses, each lit from within.

The radiance of the gas street lamps shone upon their outer walls, forming patches of interwoven light and shadow.

Suddenly, the shadows within those patches wriggled and distorted, forming a black silhouette in a neat tailcoat.

The silhouette lifted its right hand, shaped it like a gun, aimed at Klein, and pointed once.

Then it withdrew its arm and blew at the “muzzle.”

Immediately afterward, it silently toppled backward and dissolved once more into countless disconnected shadows.